Those Who Favor Fire
by i AM the Random Idiot
Summary: AU — Some say the world will end in fire. But one missing-nin, left for dead and taken by Konoha, is about to forge a new destiny in that same flame. ;;canon up to chapter 402.
1. prologue: no light but death's

**Those Who Favor Fire**

AU—Some say the world will end in fire. But one missing-nin, left for dead and taken by Konoha, is about to forge a new destiny in that same flame. ;;canon up to chapter 402.

(a/n) This is absolute madness. But since I am an AU addict, it is madness that is getting written.

And if I hear the word _ItaSaku_ come out of your mouth, there _will_ be **hell**.

This fic was inspired by, and takes its title and most of its themes from, the Robert Frost poem, "Fire and Ice:"

_Some say the world will end in fire__  
Some say in ice  
__From what I've tasted of desire  
__I'd hold with those who favor fire__  
But if I had to perish twice__  
I think I know enough of hate__  
To say that for destruction ice  
__Is also great  
And would suffice_

Note that literary and poetic references are _**by no means**_ limited to this one poem. As will soon be demonstrated below.

**xxxREVISED VERSION, 8/15/09: changed tense to present, corrected style and characterization.**

(acknowledgements) I would like to thank **Feilyn** for beta-ing this chapter and hopefully most future chapters royally.

(disclaimer) Naruto is owned by Viz Media, Shonen Jump, and Masashi Kishimoto. All rights reserved.

* * *

**.prologue.**

.no light but death's.

_( Out where the breath of war may bear,  
__Out in the rank moist reddened air__  
That sounds and smells of death, and hath  
No light but death's upon its path )_

-x-

Barely the fifteenth hour of the day, and the sky seethes black with the promise of apocalypse.

It's interesting, Itachi muses, that the bright concussion flash had robbed him not only of the remains of his sight, but much of his hearing as well. There had been no real sound that he had heard when it descended—only a faint _crackle-snap_ and the silent flaming roar of Susano'o going up around him just in time before the brilliant searing blaze struck home, perforating his eardrums and stamping his darkening retinas with pure white.

_Sasuke, you will be my new light,_ he had said, and how ironic that he'd actually spoken the truth. For once.

Forward. When you can't hear beyond a faintly growing buzz, and you can't see beyond softly flickering shape-masses, and you can't feel beyond the scraping burn of energy rushing out of your skin like so many licking flames to sustain the pandimensional warrior that both shields and wounds you, when all of these things and more have taken away all sense of where and what, there is only one direction that you can be sure of with all of your heart and soul, and that is forward.

His fingers tremble, and—_I'm sorry Sasuke_, the familiar words flow unbidden from his lips, which twitch into his first smile in ten years_, but this..._

_...is the last time._

Despite the pain, which he's too far gone to even feel now beyond knowing that _yes, his bones are crunching with every step and yes, his lungs are dissolving like wet paper cranes with every breath, can we get on with it please_; despite the pain, he hasn't felt better in ages.

The last sensation he feels, as his balance leaves him and he pitches forward into the soundless light, is that of Sasuke's forehead against the bloodied tips of his fingers. A faint tingle of chakra, and then—

Then, nothing at all.

-x-

Two bodies lie side by side in the pouring rain. The blasted terrain is slick with water and blood.

Two people stand on a short ledge above, looking down. One turns to the other and said, "_Leaf approaches. I can't carry either one if we need to move quickly_." A second, harsher voice from the same figure: "**Yes, and one is dead weight, anyway**."

The other jumps down to the bodies with catlike grace. Predatory grace. "I'll take Sasuke, then. Let Itachi rot—I've no further need for him." He reaches down and carefully, almost tenderly, lifts the smaller of the two bodies. Thin rivulets of blood still run down the youth's face from his left eye, diluted by rain into mottled soft red-pinkish blotches. The man wipes it away. "His Mangekyou have awakened," he says softly, prying open the youth's left eyelid with a thumb. "Perfect."

"**They**—"

"I _know_, Zetsu," the man snaps, flexing his legs and leaping up to the higher ledge again. "Let's go."

Four seconds later, the only figure left was the corpse of one Uchiha Itachi, as the rain slowly washed the blood from his hands.

-x-

"Someone's up there," Hinata says suddenly, as the eight Leaf-_nin_ press on towards the mountaintop, where the clouds swirl blackest and the ground lies rent open to the sky. She squints unconsciously, the veins surrounding her eyes bulging slightly more as she strains her extended field of vision. "There's someone lying on the ground—a body. I can't see any clearer until we get closer, but—"

"That's gotta be Sasuke!" Naruto bites out fiercely, and though they're already running at top speed, he surges ahead of the group. Sakura leaps forward to match pace.

"Naruto! Wait!" she calls. He whirls on her with a furious look, as if betrayed by her seeming lack of hurry. But she matches his look with one of her own, and adds, "We do it together."

He relaxes a little, and gives her a hard, grateful smile.

The two of them reach the summit about half a minute before everybody else. As Hinata and the others draw closer, she flinches a little. Surprised. Disappointed. Anxious.

"Kakashi-_sensei_?" she whispers to the _jōnin_ on her right, "I don't think—"

She doesn't even need to finish her sentence. It's obvious from the expressions on Naruto and Sakura's faces. Naruto turns to Hinata, despair and hope warring in his eyes. "Hinata," he says, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You can scan the area with your Byakugan, right? He's—he's got to be somewhere around here—"

It's desperate, pleading, already defeated. Just by truth, he's beaten.

"Then who's up there?" Sai asks, always practical, adjusting his waterproof cloak. Naruto clenches his teeth, but shakes his head, apparently not trusting himself to speak.

The others jump, climb, and lower themselves over the rubble to where Sakura now kneels next to the body that Hinata had seen. She looks up at them, her expression betraying barely checked rage mixed with frustration and disgust. "Itachi." She spits the name as if it's poison. His body is soaked in blood and rainwater. His blasted, sightless eyes stare beyond the sky, the milky-white irises downright eerie to behold.

Kakashi calmly takes in the scene. Assessing. "Itachi," he says, "dead, but with no Sasuke." A pause. "Did he walk away, or was he taken?" He doesn't seem to be posing the question to the _genin,_ but wondering aloud in half-frustration.

Kiba sniffs the air. "Hard to say. His scent is all over the place, but—" He points. "—two new scents mix with it over there. I can't say for sure." He closes his eyes, concentrating on gathering more chakra to his nose, to better separate the smells in the area.

He opens his eyes. "Wait." Kiba looks like he's realized something, but his gaze keeps flickering over to the body. "Wait. Something doesn't smell right."

Shino turns slightly. "Well, there is a corpse sitting right—"

"That's the thing. He doesn't..." Kiba inhales deeply through his nose, almost for effect. "That's not how a dead body smells."

Hinata trains her Byakugan more forcefully in Itachi's direction, and gasps. "His _keirakukei_—"

"Impossible," Sakura says, placing a hand to his bloody chest (with some hesitancy, a spasm of something between anger and distaste crossing her face), closing her eyes and concentrating. "It's not—" Her eyes snap open. "No way."

Sakura looks up. "He's alive! He's on the brink, Kakashi-_sensei_, but he's alive!"

"_What_?" The others (excluding Kiba and Hinata) flinch and back away some. All eyes turn to Kakashi.

His one visible eye flickers to everyone present, to Itachi's body, to the horizon, to the direction they'd come from, to the sky, and back around the circuit.

"We're heading back," he says, finally. "Take him. Sakura, keep him alive until we reach the village."

"**WHAT?**" Naruto bellows, incensed. "But, Sasuke—"

"Naruto." Kakashi turns away. "That's an order. Our objective was to capture Uchiha Itachi alive, remember? Konoha needs intelligence on Akatsuki more than they need us in the field right now." More quietly, he adds, "I'm sorry."

Sakura bites her lip, clenching her fist. "You want me to—?"

"Yes, Sakura. I do." The finality in his tone brooks no argument. Sakura grinds her teeth, but sets a green-glowing palm to Itachi's heart.

The only sign of life he gives is the soft twitch of a pulse, fluttering at his throat.

_..(the beginning).._

(a/n) The poem quote after the title comes from "Epilogue," a poem by Algernon Swinburne.


	2. I:o1: felix culpa

**Those Who Favor Fire**

AU—Some say the world will end in fire. But one missing-nin, left for dead and taken by Konoha, is about to forge a new destiny in that same flame. ;;canon up to chapter 402.

(a/n) Sorry this took so long, but chapter one's here! This took a long time because I kept erasing and rewriting portions and halfway through I realized I needed to write in present-tense. (If you'll notice, I also revised and resubmitted the prologue, so the tenses line up all pretty now.)

Thanks also to **Nymbis**, who also helped beta this chapter for me.

* * *

. **I** .  
.some say the world will end in fire.

--

o1  
.felix culpa.

_( __B__etween __the wave-ridge and the strand__  
I let you forth in sight of land,__  
Songs that with storm-crossed wings and eyes  
Strain eastward till the darkness dies;  
Let signs and beacons fall or stand,  
And stars and balefires set and rise __)_

-x-

Death is not what Itachi had been expecting.

He swims up slowly from oblivion, consciousness becoming clearer and clearer as he goes, like seeing light spilling into the ocean's murky depths. As his awareness grows less and less fuzzy, he gradually begins to realize something.

He _hurts_.

Every bone in his body feels like it was made of shards of glass. Every muscle feels like it's shrunk, pulling at his bones and joints and limbs like overstretched rubber bands. His lungs no longer gurgle with blood with every breath, at least—instead, they burn as if it were fire he inhaled and ashes he exhaled. His ears hurt. His throat hurts. His _skin_ hurts.

In fact, the only parts of his body that _don't_ hurt are his eyes.

Strange.

Itachi had been under the impression that death was supposed to be a place of rest. No pain, no sensations, no attachments or allies or enemies or any of those sorts of painful distractions. Just beautiful, clean void.

He counts seventeen more excruciating inhales and the sixteen painful exhales between them before the logical idea strikes him: afterlife. Of course. This is Hell, and he's reliving every second of pain he had ever inflicted on another human being, every minute of anguish he had caused their bereaved spouses, every hour of loneliness he had dealt to their children. And it would be only after he had sufficiently suffered to pay for his crimes, however long of an eternity it takes, that he would be granted the release of consciousness he craves.

That's fair, he muses.

So he continues to breathe and hurt until he slowly sinks down into the depths of unconsciousness once more.

-x-

_--sixteen hours earlier--_

"Report," Tsunade orders, rubbing her temples. She had only been roused fifteen minutes ago, from what had been going on four hours of sleep. Shizune hadn't even had _that_ luxury, poor girl. Not to mention, her office is a little too small to have both Team Eight and Team Kakashi in it at the same time.

Kakashi straightens, almost a little too formally. "Hokage-_sama_. I am pleased to report that our team has accomplished its objective."

Tsunade blinks. _Their objective? What was their objective again?_ Meanwhile, Kakashi continues, "The S-class missing-_nin_ Uchiha Itachi has been taken into custody, and placed in the hands of the medics for immediate treatment and stabilization, as per Code 6-B of Konohagakure's policy regarding injured prisoners of war..."

Oh, right. _That_ objective. Tsunade listens to the rest of the report, which almost sounds too good to be true. _Does_ sound too good to be true, except it isn't supposed to sound that way. This is the truth of _shinobi_ bureaucracy: the importance of making the success of even the most suicidal of missions sound like par for the course. Every mission is supposed to be successful.

An encounter with one Yakushi Kabuto, resulting in no capture but instead an impressive file of information on Akatsuki.

Sure.

An engagement with another couple Akatsuki, from which they escaped thankfully unharmed and with the information that Uchiha Sasuke had fought and defeated their target.

Yawn.

A hasty chase following said Akatsuki members to discover Uchiha Itachi, completely incapable of fighting and apparently left for dead.

What else?

The paradox of Tsunade's duty: expect success and anticipate failure. "And you're certain this is Itachi?" she asks, remembering another mission report they'd filed. "Rather than an imposter, like the ones your team reported from the Land of Wind?"

"We thought of that, but Sakura assured us that there is no _genjutsu_ or signs of physical surgery on his body. So far as we have been able to ascertain, Hokage-_sama_, he is the genuine article." Kakashi shrugs. "For what that's worth."

"I see..." Tsunade sighs, stands up, delivers the standard response. The verdict. "Thank you, Teams Eight and Kakashi, you are dismissed. Your mission was successful. The interrogation and imprisonment corps will take it from here."

"_Great_, now about Sasuke—" Naruto says loudly, before Sakura elbows him in the gut and hustles him out with the rest, hissing, _leave Tsunade-_sama_ alone, Naruto, she's got a lot to worry about and you need rest, we'll come back tomorrow morning..._

Shizune stifles a yawn, hurriedly glancing at the older woman to see if she'd noticed. Tsunade pretends she hadn't. "Shizune. Get me these special _jōnin_," she orders, thrusting a short scroll at her with the Interrogation squad members not currently on active duty.

As Shizune bows and hurries out, Tsunade looks at the mound of paperwork that Team Kakashi's "success" had brought her. She's thinking about the amount of confusion and chaos that's guaranteed to ensue very soon, because anticipating failure is her job, because despite all the hopeful faces and brave speeches, she really didn't expect success at all.

She almost wishes that they'd left the older Uchiha to die.

-x-

Morino Ibiki scratches unconsciously at his head; his old scars are itching. Usually a bad omen.

"Your assessment?" Tsunade asks, scrutinizing him over her folded hands. _Patience_. _Confidence. Directness._ Ibiki is so used to analyzing and interpreting the minute physical gestures of those he interrogated that he can rarely turn it off during normal conversation. Every detail was important in an interrogation, after all. Every one.

Ibiki rereads the contents of the scroll, just to reassure himself of what, exactly, he was dealing with. Next to him, Mitarashi Anko drums her fingers on the table. "It doesn't look like breaking him by any physical means will be feasible for now," he says, his gravelly voice a little more hoarse than usual from not speaking for a while. "Given the extent of his injuries, and his physical condition, we would be risking his health, and we can't afford that; either we'd lose a valuable hostage, or place disproportionate strain on the healers for the information we would acquire."

"So wait for him to fully heal and _then_ do it," Anko interrupts. "What suddenly turned _you_ squeamish, Morino?"

Ibiki smiles reflexively, "Heh! It's not that easy in this sort of situation, Mitarashi-_san_."

"Though I do trust your assessments, Morino-_san_," Tsunade says, "in this case, I'm inclined to agree with Mitarashi-_san_. We _do_ have a rather well-trained staff of healers, after all." The corner of her mouth quirks up.

"Put simply, _Godaime-sama_..." He trails off, glancing at the scroll again before carefully phrasing his explanation: "From what the healers' assessment tells me, it seems most of his cellular damage was not battle-inflicted, but rather originated with a pre-existing, long-term medical condition.

"The fact that with such extensive damage, he was still able and willing to engage in a physical altercation suggests that he has learned to block out the pain of his condition. The medicine they found on his person was only to suppress his symptoms, not to relieve pain. Thus, it is reasonable to assume that, in addition to psychological training against interrogation provided to him by not only the Akatsuki, but our own ANBU, he has experience with ignoring long-term chronic pain, and the pain of serious wounds inflicted in battle."

"So you're saying that physical torture would simply not produce results," Tsunade says, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. _She seems to be doing that a lot lately_, Ibiki notes. _Headache? Stress? Not confidence, that's for sure..._

"It could—_eventually_," he clarifies, "But it would take a lot longer than you'd like, ma'am. As for breaking him mentally, his mind is well-fortified with _genjutsu_ traps and mental barriers, as confirmed by Yamanaka Inoichi in his report. They _could_ gradually wear through them, which would—_again_—take much longer than we'd like to afford. Which is why psychological tactics seem to be our only viable option for the immediate future."

"Which take the longest of the three options, in a normal case," Anko says, chewing at a thumbnail. "With all due respect, Hokage-_sama_, this appears to be a waste of our time. And resources."

Tsunade's lips thin a little. "It may appear so, Mitarashi-_san_, but the fact is, right now we need as much intelligence on the Akatsuki as we can muster. Even the information we retrieved from Kabuto is incomplete, and in any case, certainly suspect. If we can confirm that information via a reliable second source and add to it, there's _no_ reason we shouldn't."

Apparently, even Anko is capable of realizing when she's overstepped her bounds, for she straightens her posture and then bows, "My apologies, _Godaime-sama_. It's not my place to criticize."

"In any case, your expertise in _fuuinjutsu_ will be needed in addition to your regular interrogation duties," Tsunade adds, referring to Anko's particular specialty with the sealing arts, "Obviously, we can take no chances with him. From the healers' report, it seems that his chakra has been displaying signs of disruption and doesn't seem to be healthy right now, but we can't afford to be overconfident. I want his hands restrained and a grade four seal on his chakra. Can you do that?"

"Yes, ma'am," Anko says, bowing again.

Tsunade sighs and stifles a yawn, "I believe that concludes the briefing. Are there any questions?"

Ibiki straightens reflexively, "Yes, _Godaime-sama_. I would like to formally request Uchiha Itachi's official activity record and any information on him that may be stored in the Academy and ANBU archives."

"Your request is noted, Morino-_san_; I will have that information sent to you as soon as possible," Ibiki notices a sudden shift in Shizune's posture, as well as a flicker of a glance between her and Tsunade.

_...Apprehension?_

"Of course, _Godaime-sama_."

He files it away in his mind for further examination.

Every detail is important.

-x-

"No, Naruto. Don't even ask her. It's a bad idea."

Sakura shakes her head, "You were there at the briefing with me. They've given him to the healers to treat the worst of his damage, and as soon as they get him stable and conscious, they're handing him over to Ibiki-_san_ and his squad. There's no way—"

"I wouldn't ask her if I didn't think it was _important_," Naruto says furiously, fidgeting with the _hitai-ate_ he held in his hands for polishing, its unmarred metal gleaming, "I _told_ you, there's something fishy that I need to ask him about. I told you about our encounter back in that forest, right?"

Sakura nods, concern creasing her forehead, "Yeah, when he put you in a _genjutsu_ with no effort _at all_ and then _did_ something to you—"

"And didn't capture me."

"That's not the _point_, Naruto!" She crosses her arms, defiant and angry, "The point is, he _could have_. Easily."

"The point is, he could have, but _didn't_!" Naruto sighs impatiently, squinting at the afternoon sun hanging low across Konoha's skyline, "You weren't there. It was...weird."

He seems to be struggling for words; he's unaccustomed to things like this, preferring to speak with a fist or a sweeping hand gesture, and to ignore things that are otherwise indefinable. "It was like...he didn't want to fight me. It didn't—_doesn't_ make any sense, Sakura-_chan_, and I want to know _why_."

He's hesitant, the headband flipping over and over between his fingers. She's never seen Naruto this thoughtful before, and it scares her a little. Even though she doesn't know why, it still does.

Sakura takes a deep breath in. Lets it out. Speaks directly, "Naruto, this is the man who slaughtered the _entire_ Uchiha clan. He killed his own _family_ in cold blood and he joined Akatsuki and he..." A pause, a swallow, "He took Sasuke away from us, Naruto. With what he did to him. With hate. And he belongs to an organization whose top priority, by his own admission, is capturing _you_! And killing you!"

Her fists clench, "What if, whatever he did to you in that _genjutsu_, what if he used his _doujutsu_ to...plant a suggestion in your subconscious? So he could both put you off guard now _and_ make sure he'd capture you the next time you meet? You can't risk it."

Naruto has disbelief written all over his face, "Sakura-_chan_, I'm pretty sure that I'd know—"

"_**No!**_" she bursts out, and it's so loud she startles the birds off the power line over their heads, "That's the point, Naruto, you _wouldn't_ know! I want the truth as much as you do, I promise, but Itachi is _dangerous_, do you understand? I don't care how beaten he was when we brought him in, he's dangerous as long as he's alive, and..."

_And I hate him_, is what she can't say aloud, _I hate him I hate him I hate him for what he's done to us, to you, to __**me**__._ She can't say it aloud because there was someone who said that once before and he's gone now. He's gone, but his shadow still lingers behind Naruto's eyes.

Sakura is interrupted by the pat of a comforting hand on her shoulder; she turns to see Kakashi. By the look on Naruto's face, he'd only just appeared in the last few seconds.

"Perhaps we can keep it down a little, you two," he says, his tone light but carrying a warning beneath, "You are, after all, discussing a top secret matter. On Naruto-_kun_'s roof."

They both study their feet very closely for a moment. Color rises in Sakura's cheeks.

"Kakashi-_sensei_, I—"

He cuts Naruto off with a jerk of his head, "You're wanted in the Hokage's office, Naruto. Sakura, you come too. There's someone who wishes to speak with you."

-x-

_Horse. Rat. Ox. Rat. Tiger. Dog. Monkey. Dog. Bird. ...Hare..._

_I don't remember the last seal_, Anko thinks irritably, rubbing her head and sighing. Her notes are a mess, strewn across the desk in her office. _I haven't done a grade four in a while... _Scrolls, inks and brushes, sigil-covered pages torn from old books, and various other objects related to her profession either lie strewn across the floor like some new form of carpeting, or sit stacked ten high on desks and chairs. The room had been slightly messy before, but her frantic searching, studying, and preparing have multiplied the mess twentyfold.

"I don't even know his chakra nature," she mutters, glancing at a fresh sheet before throwing it aside with a snort of disgust. "What have I gotten myself into?"

The answer: a big mess, as she moves to sit down and ends up knocking a pile of scrolls all over the floor. She snarls loudly in frustration, slapping the desk and sending a wet brush flying, splattering red ink on one of her books. _Smooth, Anko_, "Are you _kidding_ me?"

A tentative knock at her door, of all things, intrudes on her bad day, and Umino Iruka opens the door.

"Is there something—oh," he stares at the state of her office, "Um."

Anko sighs loudly, "Come on in, Iruka, it's okay." She's already begun carefully picking her scrolls off the floor, trying to puzzle out the order in which she'd stacked them.

To her surprise, he kneels right down and starts gathering papers as well, "I was walking past and I heard you yell. I thought you might need help," he glances sideways at her, trying to gauge her reaction. "If you don't mind me saying so, you really ought to get organized, Mitarashi-_san_."

Cue eyeroll. "I am organized. I know exactly where my things are. And call me Anko-_san_, at least, Iruka—I don't outrank you _that_ much."

He smiles politely. _Everything_ he does is polite, really, "Can I ask what has you so stressed?"

"Sorry, privileged information." She smiles slightly.

He looks like he can't tell if she's joking or not, which is exactly what Anko intended.

"The word came through. Jiraiya-_sama_ has died in battle," Iruka says suddenly. Anko blinks as if struck.

"That's..." That's unexpected? Awful? The life of a _shinobi_? She's always respected Jiraiya, but never liked to be around when he was around, afraid of his pity or indirect guilt. She of all people understands what it feels like to hate herself for not being able to kill Orochimaru when she had the chance, "That's sobering," she says.

An unusual word to use, but a good one.

Iruka isn't even gathering things anymore. He seems lost in thought.

"...Do you sometimes feel," he asks, "like things are moving faster? Or like we're moving slower?"

Anko shrugs, thinks of her mission briefing, her first big interrogation assignment since she transferred a year ago from the exam squad. Thinks about changes.

"I think your knee's in my good inkwell."

-x-

The pain finally whets his thoughts sharp enough to pierce the veil of semi-consciousness, and Itachi's eyes snap open.

Nothing.

He's sure he opened them, so he blinks them once. Twice.

Nothing.

Absolute darkness.

Strangely, this doesn't bother him as much as he thought it would have.

_He's awake_, someone says, above and to the right a little (he realizes now that he's laying down on a table of some kind), someone with a voice like nails. It could belong to something vicious and angry and clawed and toothed, something that would take a great deal of pleasure in eating his heart out.

(_I know this voice_, is what he's afraid to think)

_Good_, another voice says, female this time, and Itachi has time to figure out that he's _strapped_ to a table of some kind, that part of his face is covered by a cloth tied across the top half of his head, that someone is writing on his bare stomach with a cold ink brush, before a palm hissing with chakra slams down on his sternum and—

_(!!!!words there are no words for this)_

_...It hurts more if they're awake_, the second voice explains as darkness clamps down over all of him at once.

-x-

(a/n) The poem quoted above is, once again, Algernon Swinburne's _Epilogue_.


End file.
